


A Family Close to my Heart

by vtforpedro



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 05:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10915659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Bilbo stumbles into a situation with two broken-hearted boys and their overwhelmed uncle.





	A Family Close to my Heart

The study is filled with the sounds of Beethoven, titmice enjoying the bird feeder outside the opened window, and smells of freshly brewed tea and cut strawberries. It is just past five in the evening, a glorious summer day, and Bilbo Baggins is sitting in front of his computer, writing his novella.

He has been hard at work on it for the past two weeks and can see the end quickly approaching. He will have it finished and readied for editing in another week, if he’s lucky, and it is ahead of schedule, which will please Gandalf. Then he will take his holiday in Biarritz, enjoying solitude and the beach and many, many cocktails. He is excited for it, something he has not felt in quite a while (years, but he pretends otherwise) and finally thinks that maybe he has found his stride again. It had been lost after Mum died, but he is beginning to feel light again, and smiles are coming easier. He is ready for more and has the motivation to get there.

It would make sense then for his peace to be broken now that he has finally found it.

_“I hate you!”_

It is a child that screeches it and then there is the bang of a door against the frame, shortly followed by another one. Bilbo pauses in his writing, blinking and pushing his glasses further up on his nose as he glances at the window. He looks out of it warily, listening for any other sounds.

There is more yelling, a deeper voice, though he can’t make out the words.

Bilbo, concerned for the genuine panic in the man’s voice, lifts himself from his chair and leans over his computer, peering out of the window. His study faces north and the side of his neighbor’s home. He sees a man that he recognizes, Thorin Durinson he believes it is, run down his porch and begin to look up and down the street.

When Thorin turns left and begins to run down the sidewalk, another spot of movement catches Bilbo’s eye, and he lets out a hum of surprise as he presses his nose to the glass, looking down as well as he can. There is a blond mane of hair hiding behind his trash bins and the wall that separates his garden from Thorin’s. The boy backs away, turns to Bilbo’s gate, and opens it, striding into his back garden and out of sight.

Bilbo feels rather torn. He does not want Thorin to run himself ragged trying to find the boy, nor does he want the child in his garden, but he is hesitant to get involved. Then again, the boy sounded quite angry and he can’t help but wonder if it is even safe for him with his neighbor. He knows nothing of Thorin, as the man hardly ever returns any greetings, and always looks to be in a perpetually sour mood. It is off-putting, no matter how fine he looks in his track wear.

He shakes himself and decides he must at least see to the boy. He leaves his study in a hurried pace, taking the stairs two at a time, thanking his lucky stars he does not break his neck doing it, and jogs to his back door. He quietly enters his garden and looks around the bushes and flower beds for the boy; there are not many places he can hide back here, and Bilbo eyes the barnyard red shed in the corner. It was his mother’s and while he always thought it was an eyesore, she had loved it, and he can’t bear to take it down.

After another moment’s hesitation, he steels himself and crosses his yard, stepping close to the shed. He listens for a moment and hears a sniffle, nodding to himself. Found him.

Then Bilbo rocks on his toes and furrows his brow. He has spoken to children before, of course, as he has numerous young cousins, but he’s never been the best with them, and he doesn’t know the boy’s relation to Thorin. He is certain that the boy (and another boy, too, wasn’t there?) only came to live with Thorin about two months ago, as he had started to see them then, versus only seeing them a handful of times before. But he doesn’t know their names.

“Erm,” he mutters to himself before clearing his throat, abruptly stopping the sniffles behind the shed. “Hello. I’m Bilbo Baggins and this is my home. I do believe you are behind my shed and I’d like you to know that there is nothing to be afraid of, but Thorin seems to be searching for you. I thought I’d say hello before calling him over. What’s your name?”

Silence. If he hadn’t already known the boy was back there, he’d assume he was talking to a squirrel, and strives not to feel that way.

“I think we ought not to worry him,” Bilbo says. “Are you quite alright? Are you hurt?”

Nothing.

“Bother,” Bilbo murmurs, then hums. “If you’re hurt, I have bandages and the like. Won’t you come out? I promise I will not hurt you. You are perfectly safe here.”

It is still quiet and just when Bilbo is thinking of approaching the shed and hoping the boy doesn’t bolt, there are hesitant footsteps, and a blond child appears next to the shed. He peers at Bilbo with suspicious blue eyes, which are red and puffy, and drags his hand across a wet nose. He can’t be more than ten or eleven, Bilbo thinks, but he certainly has a glare worthy of his… whatever Thorin is to him.

“Hello,” Bilbo says, waving a little, and feeling a bit foolish for it. “Are you alright?”

The boy merely stares at him, then looks back the way he came, before shifting his eye back to Bilbo. He sniffs and opens his mouth once, then twice, seeming to be trying to gather his courage, and Bilbo patiently waits for him.

“Don’t tell him,” the boy finally says. “Don’t tell him where I am. He’s just going to yell at me more.”

Bilbo feels his stomach do an unpleasant churn and begins to think that perhaps this is more of a precarious situation than he was thinking. If Thorin is yelling at the boy, then it can’t possibly be healthy, and he hasn’t a clue what to do with that information.

“He keeps making Kili cry,” the boy adds suddenly, as if this piece of information will help his cause.

“Kili,” Bilbo repeats, and knows it must be the other boy. A brunet, younger, perhaps six or seven. And now that he thinks about it, he had once or twice thought that the boys seemed subdued for their young ages. They did not run about the garden and wreak havoc as most children did, and he’s suddenly ashamed for having been glad for it.

“Kili is your brother?” Bilbo asks, and the boy nods sedately. “Is- is Thorin yelling at you very often?”

The boy’s face twists as if he might cry again, and Bilbo flounders, but then he says, “He never used to. He never used to be this way. Not since-” he chokes himself off and his eyes grow wet. “He never used to be this way,” he repeats, quieter.

Bilbo nods in understanding. Something has happened, that is obvious, but he isn’t sure he feels comfortable hunting down Thorin before he knows what. “I am sorry he’s been yelling at you,” Bilbo says, keeping his hands loose at his sides. “When did he start?”

There is a long beat of silence, and then the boy sniffs and lowers his eyes. “When Mum died,” he says in a painfully small voice.

“Oh,” Bilbo breathes, the very air in his chest taken straight from him, and his heart goes out to the lad. He thinks about kneeling but feels the boy would not appreciate it. “I’m very sorry.” Something occurs to him and he hopes he is right, hopes that more than anything right then. “Perhaps he is very upset about that, too.”

The boy watches him as if he doesn’t know what to make of him before he gives a shaky jerk of his head. “It doesn’t mean he should yell at us,” he says.

“Oh no,” Bilbo says. “Of course not, he shouldn’t. But sometimes, when we lose someone very close to us, we get angry. We can bottle things up inside, you see, and it can boil over. Sometimes we yell at ones we love, even though it’s wrong, because we’re grieving. Do you think perhaps that is why he has started yelling at you?”

“You’ve lost someone,” the boy says in lieu of answering, frowning, looking far beyond his few years.

Bilbo feels the hollowed part of his chest ache but pushes it aside. “Yes, I have. My mother died two years ago and my father five,” he answers honestly. “And I was angry after my mother died. It took a while to learn how to not be.”

The boy stares again, for a long few moments, before he nods as if he has come to a decision. He kicks his blue trainers against the ground once before he steps away from the shed and closer to Bilbo. He looks back toward the gate and shakes his head.

“He’s still going to yell at me.”

“He’s quite worried. I think he’ll be glad to see you,” Bilbo tries, even if he doesn’t know for sure. He needs to get the boy back to Thorin before he phones the police - he only hopes he won’t have to do that himself. “He’s looking for you. Shall we go and find him? I’ll be with you, if you’d like.”

The boy hesitates, looking unsure, before he finally nods. He begins to stride toward the gate and Bilbo hastens to follow his sure steps, feeling rather wrong-footed himself. They leave the back garden and walk down the pathway leading to the sidewalk, where they both stop and look toward Thorin’s house.

Bilbo catches the sound of a shout and turns the other way, watching as Thorin himself appears around the corner of his home, which is on the corner of the street and is the biggest lot. Thorin must have gone in a circle around the neighborhood and quickly at that.

Thorin freezes when he catches sight of them and Bilbo can feel that the boy stiffens. Then Thorin begins to stomp toward them, rather large and certainly foreboding, and though he is pale and looks relieved, his eyes hold a dark anger that doesn’t sit well in the pit of Bilbo’s stomach.

“Fili!” Thorin shouts as he gets closer. “Fili, what were you thinking? You can’t run away like that! I had to leave Kili in the house! He’s six, he can’t be by himself! Where did you go?” He doesn’t even spare a glance toward Bilbo, who feels an inexplicable urge to protect the boy.

Fili gets there first. He snatches up Bilbo’s hand and nearly melds into his side. “Stop yelling at me!” he shouts, sounding on the verge of tears again. “Stop it! Just stop! You’re always yelling and making Kili cry and- and I won’t forgive you for that! He’s too little and he’s not doing anything wrong! I know you don’t like us or want us around, but-”

“Fili,” Thorin says, and the anger is gone. His shoulders slump and his mouth is open as if he is in shock. A look of such stricken pain flashes across his features and he stumbles a little as he staggers a step forward. Fili turns his head away and buries his face against Bilbo’s side. “Fili, please. I’m sorry. Fili, please, I want you here. Of course I do.”

There is the sudden bang of a door again, and a small voice cries, “Fili!”

They look toward Thorin’s yard and watch as a blur of a boy comes running down the porch and straight for them. Kili is quite small and already dressed in purple pajamas with yellow rocket ships and stars on them. He is clearly heading for one person and Fili quickly lets Bilbo go and is barreled into by his brother only a second later. They cling together and Bilbo is sure he has never seen such a sight in his life, and feels an immense amount of pity and anger boiling in his gut.

He looks at Thorin and some of his own anger ebbs. The man looks wrecked and if Bilbo isn’t mistaken, his eyes appear rather wet. He stares down at the boys and hardly looks as if he can stay on his own two feet as he watches them.

Fili rubs his brother’s back and lifts his blue gaze, the same as Thorin’s, Bilbo notes, and there is reproach in it.

Thorin takes one step forward and then promptly kneels. “Guys,” he says, soft, and then shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should never yell at you-”

“Why do you then?” Fili interrupts, a demand.

Thorin stares back at him, looking so utterly lost, and smaller for it, even with his significant stature. He shakes his head again and holds out one hand in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know,” he croaks. “I’ve been upset. Not at you. Never at you. I’m- I’m… fuck.” He lowers his eyes and looks at the ground, and it is the most pitiful thing Bilbo has ever seen, he is sure of it.

He thinks about intervening here, but Fili beats him to the punch again.

“Just because you’re upset doesn’t mean you should yell at us!” he says, then strokes Kili’s hair as his brother looks wide-eyed between them. “I’m angry, too, you know.”

Thorin looks at him again and swallows audibly. “I know you are,” he says quietly. “And that’s fair, Fili. But you’re right: I should never yell at you. I’m not going to anymore. I swear it, guys, I won’t. Your Mum would throttle me if she saw me right now, wouldn’t she? I’ve been a fool. Fili, Kili, I have, I’ve been a fool. I never meant to hurt either of you but I see that I have and I’m going to stop. I want you to feel safe here, with me. Don’t ever think I don’t want you here. It’s my privilege to take care of you.” He presses his hand against his chest, over his heart. “You two are everything to me and you’ve done nothing wrong. I want you to feel like you’re home here, even if- even if that’s hard.”

Bilbo has pursed his lips through Thorin’s speech and if his own eyes sting, perhaps he can’t be blamed for that. Fili is silently crying as he watches Thorin, still holding his brother close. Kili is merely looking between them before his eyes catch on Bilbo and widen in surprise, as if he hadn’t seen him there before.

And Bilbo feels as if he has waltzed into a stranger’s home and taken a seat at their dining table. He was writing, absorbed, just a short while ago, and now he has been thrust into this broken family. He is infinitely out of place and doesn’t quite know what to do with himself; the situation is too shaky to simply excuse himself, but he doesn’t know what to say, not really.

He is also concerned that Fili might run again, if Thorin were to say the wrong thing.

Kili is the first one to move and he extracts himself from his brother’s hold before running for Thorin. He throws his arms around the man’s neck and clings to him as Thorin eagerly pulls him close. There are certainly tears in his eyes now and he looks over Kili’s head to Fili before he extends a hand toward him.

Fili stares at it for a long moment, then gives a minute shake of his head.

Bilbo could kick Thorin for daring to look so crestfallen about it, but he supposes emotions are running high, and he can imagine they have been for some months. But Thorin clears his expression and squeezes Kili to himself before he sighs, glancing sidelong at Bilbo for the first time.

He’s mildly affronted at the outright suspicion on his face but he supposes he can’t blame him for that, either. He is all but a stranger to Thorin.

“Do you guys want to go home?” Thorin asks, looking between the boys.

Kili gives a great big bob of his head while Fili firmly shakes his, looking resolute about it. Bilbo wrings his hands together, looking between them all, attempting to think of something to say. Something, anything.

“Dinner,” he blurts, then winces as the three of them look at him. “That is, er, it’s dinnertime, about, isn’t it? Rightly so, I believe. Have you eaten yet?” He looks at Thorin, who eyes him but gives a shake of his head anyway. “Right then, well. I imagine Thorin will be preparing supper for you boys and the evening will cool down a bit. You’ll want to be inside soon, Fili.”

“I don’t want to go inside,” Fili says, still sounding angry, and very, very wounded.

“Fili, Uncle was going to make mac and cheese!” Kili crows as he pulls back from his uncle. He runs to his brother, snatching up his hand and tugging on it. “Don’t you want mac and cheese?” he asks in such a dramatic fashion that Bilbo smiles. After a head shake from his brother, he groans. “But _Fili,_ it’s mac and cheese!”

“I’m sorry, Kee,” Fili says softly and quickly wipes his cheeks. “I’m not… I don’t want…”

“Is it the box or homemade?” Bilbo asks.

“Box!” Kili declares. Bilbo notes that Thorin looks rather pained by the admission, and soldiers on.

He nods and rocks up on his toes. “Well, the box can be very good, but sometimes homemade is better. I make it fairly often, with chicken and broccoli,” he says, smiling when Kili sticks his tongue out in displeasure. “Some of us like our greens, you know! My macaroni and cheese is made with three different types of cheese, cream, and bacon if I’m feeling daring. Quite delicious, if I say so myself. And I just so happen was going to make it this weekend, so if you’d like, I can make it and share.”

Fili nods his head eagerly, stepping closer to Bilbo. “Okay. That sounds good,” he says, jumping on the opportunity as Thorin opens his mouth to likely reject the offer.

Thorin looks torn again, as if his pride is getting in the way of any offerings, and Bilbo will have none of that in this situation, thank you very much.

“We can’t ask Mister Baggins to make us dinner,” Thorin says anyway, still gentle.

“Mister Baggins offered,” Bilbo interjects, rather surprised Thorin remembered his name from when he had first introduced himself a few years ago.

“Can we help?” Fili asks, looking at Bilbo. “We used to help Mum make hers.”

Bilbo blinks, and then gestures a little. “Oh, er, well I only meant to bring it over…” he starts to say, then hastens to continue as Fili’s face falls, “but of course you can help, if you’d like. I’d be glad for it! As long as your uncle says it’s okay, that is.”

The look Fili levels his uncle with is neither polite nor encouraging.

Thorin’s shoulders slump further but he sighs and inclines his head. “Very well. We can help Mister Baggins,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. He settles his piercing blue gaze on Bilbo and inspects him a little too intensely to be comfortable, but Bilbo can’t begrudge him that, of course. “Can we bring anything?”

He shakes his head. “No, no, I have everything,” he says, a little lost himself now that he knows he will have company. “Would you, ah, like to come in now?”

Thorin frowns and looks at his nephews, eyes lingering on Kili. “We need to get you into clothes,” he says, to the obvious chagrin of the little boy.

“I _am_ in clothes,” he points out, as if this is very obvious, and Thorin is very dense.

“Perhaps Fili would like to change into his pajamas, even it all out,” Bilbo offers, smiling at the boys, whose eyes are both still red and look too pale to be healthy.

Fili seems to consider this before he brightens a bit and nods. “Okay,” he says, pointedly not looking at his uncle. “I’ll go change. Kili, come with me.” He holds his hand out, and his brother eagerly snatches it up, grinning as bright as the sun.

They both tear off back to Thorin’s home and Bilbo pats at his thighs, blinking, somewhat proud of himself for giving the boys something to be eager for. He might have unexpected company, but the house is clean and tidy as it always is (except for the study and they won’t be venturing there anyway) and he always loves an excuse to show off his kitchen, as well as his cooking skills. He remembers he has cookies from two days ago and vows to make sure the boys eat their fill of them, whatever Thorin has to say about the matter be damned.

He looks at the man, who is still standing, looking unsure of himself and a mite miserable still. “A good home cooked meal is always enough to brighten spirits,” he says.

Thorin looks offended, of all things. “I know,” he says, his deep voice harsher than it should be. “I can cook for them but I need to go to the store. They both like it out of the box.”

“I didn’t doubt your cooking skills,” Bilbo returns gently, half tempted to hold up his hands as if trying to placate an agitated animal. He refrains. “But I think they might need something more tonight. Company might help, too-”

“I don’t need your charity, nor your pity. We’re fine,” Thorin snaps. He looks as if he regrets it immediately and sighs, lifting his hand to scrub over his face. “Fili normally doesn’t do well with strangers but if he wants to come over, I won’t stop him. I only ask that you don’t ask about their mother.”

Bilbo nods in understanding. “I am sorry for your loss, Thorin,” he says genuinely, then sighs at the suspicious glance thrown his way. “Fili told me. I lost my own mother two years ago, so I daresay I know a little of what he’s going through, but certainly not from a child’s perspective, which I imagine is even more devastating. I won’t ask about her, I promise.”

Thorin stares at him for a long, heavy moment, then nods once. “I need to get my phone. We’ll be over in a few minutes,” he says. He walks past Bilbo and goes back into his home.

Bilbo stands on the sidewalk for a little while more, wondering how he got to this place, then turns and goes back into his own home. He hastens into the kitchen and quickly goes about pulling out his pitcher of strawberry lemonade, homemade and delicious. He grabs four glasses and sets them on his table before he gets plates and forks out. He gets his loaf of freshly baked sourdough bread out and cuts it into slices, setting them in the bread basket and laying it in the middle of his table, along with some butter.

He is about to start pulling out what he needs to make his famous macaroni and cheese but his bell rings before he can. He claps his hands together and hurries down the hall to the front door, opening it and blinking at the strange brightness of purple and red pajamas. Fili’s have comic book heroes on them and Bilbo smiles, stepping aside and ushering them in.

“Thank you,” Fili says politely, before he gives up all pretenses and darts into the house after Kili, and they both disappear down the hall.

Bilbo looks up at Thorin, who is standing on the threshold and looking pained. He sighs and motions for him to follow. “Come in, please,” he says. “I have lemonade. Or beer, if you’d prefer it. Always goes well with macaroni and cheese.” He tries for a smile, which predictably falls flat, and vows to himself that he will get Thorin to loosen up before the night is over.

Thorin merely steps inside without a word and Bilbo lets him close the door behind himself before he ventures off after the boys. He steps into his kitchen and smiles to see them hovering beside the table, looking unsure, but Kili is eyeing the bread basket with obvious want, while Fili is inspecting the pitcher of lemonade.

“Please, pour yourselves a glass and try the bread. I made it this morning,” Bilbo encourages, motioning. They both snatch up a piece of bread and Fili sticks his in his mouth as he goes about pouring a glass for himself and his brother. “Well, now. I think I shall get my mise en place ready and we’ll make dinner!”

“Meesin plus?” Kili asks around a mouthful of bread, giggling. “What’s a meesin plus, Mister Baggins?”

“Please do call me Bilbo, boys,” Bilbo says, chuckling. “Mise en place,” he pronounces clearly. “It is French for ‘putting in place’. That means that we get all of our ingredients and measuring cups and utensils out before we start cooking, so we don’t run around the kitchen making a mess of things.”

Fili nods sagely while Kili beams and repeats, “Meesin plus. Can we help you with your meesin plus?”

“Certainly,” Bilbo says, glancing at Thorin, who is standing in the kitchen doorway. “Thorin, please take a seat. Beer or lemonade? Water? I also have orange and cranberry juice.”

Thorin looks rather overwhelmed. “Lemonade,” he says simply and steps to the table. His eyes are darting around the kitchen and Bilbo is beginning to suspect he is naturally suspicious of his surroundings and wonders what has happened in his life to make him that way. He watches the man as he pours himself a glass of lemonade and stands near the table, back rigid.

Bilbo is having none of that and pulls a chair out for him, gesturing grandly at it, which earns him a giggle from Kili. Thorin looks as if he has sucked on a particularly sour lemon but he stiffly sits nevertheless and holds his cup as if it is the only thing tethering him to the ground.

With that battle won, Bilbo turns to the boys and puts his hands on his hips. “Well then. Time for a little mise en place,” he says. He goes to his fridge and begins to pull out the cheeses he will need, along with milk, cream, and butter. “Fili, will you get me the large pot that is in that cupboard there?” He motions with his free hand and hides a smile as the boy hurries to grab his cooking pot.

He gets the other ingredients out, settling everything along his kitchen island, as well as measuring cups and spoons. Kili is sticking rather close to him, which takes a little getting used to, but eventually he lets the boy sample the cheeses in the name of helping the cook. Fili joins in and Bilbo is just thankful he has bought enough cheese to go around; something tells him that Thorin must eat quite a lot as well, but he wonders if he will eat his fill this evening. It is painfully obvious this was not a night he had envisioned for himself. But Bilbo largely ignores his presence and gets the stovetop going.

Kili watches his every move, asking endless questions about this and that, and Bilbo finds his stride answering them. It seems like speaking with children is coming back to him from his younger years and he learns about Kili’s school, his favorite teacher, the little girl he thinks is just the nicest girl there ever was, and all about how he is going to be an astronaut when he grows up. He vows to take the little girl to the stars with him and Bilbo smiles indulgently as Fili lets a grin loose.

Fili doesn’t say much, but he has warmed up to Bilbo, and he considers this another victory. He learns the boy is indeed eleven (“Almost twelve.”) to Kili’s six (“And three quarters!”) and that he does ‘alright’ in school. Thorin tells Bilbo that he is the smartest in his class, to which Fili sulks a little and mutters under his breath, but there is a fierce pride burning in his eyes Bilbo doesn’t miss.

Dinner doesn’t take long to make and soon Bilbo is sliding the ceramic pot into the oven to bake the macaroni and cheese.

“To brown the top, you see,” Bilbo explains when Fili seems curious. “You’ll enjoy it.”

Fili looks politely skeptical and Bilbo has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t chuckle; he does not wish to ostracize the boy so soon after gaining some trust.

“Uncle Thorin always burns garlic bread,” Kili confides, peering into the oven with ill-disguised excitement and hunger. “And then he swears a lot.”

Thorin makes an odd choking noise as Bilbo laughs. “Does he?” he asks, glancing at the man still seated uncomfortably at his dining table. His cheeks look rather rosy and Bilbo decides that it is a fetching shade on him. “Well, we can’t have that. My father hardly ever swore but Mum always made him apologize when he did.”

It goes quiet and Bilbo realizes a beat too late that he has likely made a grave mistake. But then Fili snorts and looks every bit the teenager he isn’t quite yet.

“Mum just hit Thorin with a spatula when he did,” he says proudly, but does not look at his uncle, and Bilbo doesn’t miss that he didn’t address him as such either.

Kili laughs quite hard. “And the remote!” he chimes in, eyes gleaming as he looks at his uncle.

Thorin sighs and smiles, but there is pain in his eyes. Bilbo thinks he’s hiding it rather well considering the day. “She had good aim,” he says. “I deserved it every time. You two keep me in line most of the time.”

“You still swear a lot,” Fili says, looking sidelong at his uncle, but he doesn’t sound upset about it, merely matter-of-fact. There is some tension in his own eyes still but he seems to be relaxed most around his brother and Bilbo will see to it that he stays that way.

“His favorite word is shit,” Kili supplies, grinning, before his face morphs into shock and he clamps his hands over his mouth.

Fili begins to snicker and Bilbo lets his full-body laugh out, grinning as he looks at Thorin, who is certainly blushing now. But the man smiles after a moment and shakes his head, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“It shouldn’t be. Don’t say that at school, Kili,” Thorin says with genuine amusement. “You’ll get me into trouble with your teacher.”

Kili holds up his pinky in a promise, still clasping his other hand over his mouth, but he’s giggling under there.

The oven timer goes off and the boys huddle around it as Bilbo removes the bubbling macaroni and cheese. Kili ooh’s and ahh’s as he carries the dish over to the table and sets it down. He warns that it’s too hot when it seems the boy wants to dig right in, and instead instructs him to carry the apple matchsticks he had cut up, and Fili takes the toasted pecans from last night’s dinner, and a bowl of cranberries to the table. It is a lovely spread and Bilbo is feeling rather proud of himself, but especially so when he sees Thorin eye everything appreciatively.

“Well, I think I’m going to have a lager,” Bilbo declares, looking at the man. And _really_ looking at him; his hair that is in need of a solid brushing, and his beard that seems recently trimmed, and his forget-me-not eyes that are a little too unreal. He is the picture of handsome, his height and his well-toned physique working even more in his favor. Bilbo blinks and rocks forward a little. “Would you like one?” he asks Thorin, then shakes his fingers at the boys. “You both must wait until you are at least thirteen.”

Fili grins at this while Kili looks genuinely confused.

Thorin hesitates for a moment, then finally nods. “A lager,” he says, snatching Kili’s wandering hand away from the too-hot pot.

Bilbo fetches the beers, opening them and setting them on the table. He turns on his radio on the counter to a generic station that will at least liven the place up and finally takes his seat. He smiles between his guests and motions at the food. “Please, dig in!”

Both Thorin and Fili have to stop Kili this time, and it is his older brother who serves him a generous portion of macaroni and cheese, as well as apple matchsticks. He foregoes them for himself, mumbling about hating apples, and piles cranberries and pecans onto his own plate instead. Thorin serves himself next and Bilbo knows it is indeed less than he should eat, but he makes a point of spooning extra onto his plate. Hopefully the man will go for seconds.

They tuck into the meal and Bilbo grins and chuckles at the boys’ awe and honest compliments on his food. They both are inhaling it so quickly that Thorin chides them until they slow down - the last thing anyone needs is for either of them to get sick at Bilbo’s table.

“I think once we have sufficiently digested our meals, we can have cookies for dessert. I have chocolate chip, peanut butter, and oatmeal raisin. Made them myself,” Bilbo eventually says, smiling when Kili’s eyes go wide. “But only on one condition. You must help me clean the dishes.”

“We always clean the dishes,” Fili says.

Thorin looks as if he is going to argue the point but a quick head shake from Bilbo has him snapping his mouth shut.

“Good! Then you must know what you’re doing,” Bilbo says with a wink, stuffing the last bite of macaroni into his mouth. He leans back once he is finished. “I must say that was very good.”

“Thank you, Bilbo,” the boys chime together, then laugh and pinch each other, which must be a game of some sort.

“Yes. Thank you,” Thorin says, and for the first time that evening he looks as if he means it. “It was good. Great, I mean. Just… thank you.”

Bilbo smiles warmly. “You’re very welcome, Thorin,” he says, ignoring the odd flutter in his stomach when the man’s lips turn up in a small smile of his own.

“Bilbo, do you have any pets?” Kili asks suddenly, to which Thorin nearly immediately groans. The boy shoots his uncle a disapproving frown before turning wide, curious eyes on Bilbo. “Do you have a cat?”

“I certainly do not, as I am highly allergic,” Bilbo answers, then hastens to add, “but I do quite like them. I also like very small dogs. But no, no pets.”

“Uncle Thorin won’t let us have one,” Kili says with the utmost affront. “He says we aren’t home enough.”

“We aren’t,” Thorin says firmly, as if they have had this discussion many times. He looks at Bilbo and sighs. “He’s asking everyone he sees. He thinks it’ll help his case.” He sends a pointed look to Kili, who turns his nose up primly and ignores him.

“I’d be home _more_ if I didn’t have school and then I could take care of a kitten,” he declares. “Tauriel has a kitten and she brought him to school. He’s orange and little and cried a lot. Maybe you can get a puppy and we can come play with it!”

Bilbo huffs out a short laugh. “That is quite the idea, Kili, but I’m afraid I can’t. Maybe someday, though,” he says, reaching over to pat the boy’s hand consolingly.

Kili sighs as if he has suffered the greatest burden before he nods and clambers out of his chair. “Fili! Dishes!” he orders, grabbing his plate and silverware, balancing them with his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth.

Fili rolls his eyes but dutifully stands and begins to gather Thorin’s and Bilbo’s plates. He takes them to the sink, which Kili can’t reach, and helps his brother with his own armful.

Bilbo stands and hurries to his pantry, bringing out the stool he unfortunately needs to reach his higher cabinets, and sets it at the sink for Kili. He looks delighted at the prospect of washing dishes and Bilbo gets them started with warm, soapy water, then joins Thorin back at the table. He is watching his nephews with such fondness that Bilbo’s breath catches a bit.

“They are very good boys,” Bilbo says quietly.

“They are,” Thorin agrees. He frowns and shakes his head. “I should be doing better with them. I _have_ to do better with them.”

“You will. It gets easier. I know that’s a tired saying, but it’s true, and it will. I’m not the… best with children, but patience is-”

“I know they require patience, Mister Baggins,” Thorin interrupts, his eyes hardening on Bilbo. His fingers squeeze around the neck of his beer bottle. “And I know I’m not the most patient man, but I used to be… good at this. Since she died, nothing has gone right. I’m trying.” His brows knit as if he is attempting to convince himself of it. “I _am_ trying.”

“I can see that,” Bilbo says. “I can. And I do truly believe you’ll do better for them.” He pauses, then soldiers on, “And if- if I may- that is, if you ever need, erm, someone to watch them for a while, if you don’t have anyone nearby, I’d be glad to. Sometimes a break is in order for everyone’s sake. I know it isn’t my place, of course-”

“It isn’t,” Thorin says, still watching him intently. He doesn’t sound particularly unkind but not exactly friendly either. “I don’t know you, Mister Baggins.”

“You could. Get to know me, that is,” Bilbo offers with a shrug of his shoulders. He finishes off his beer before he can lose his courage. “We are neighbors and if I can help with anything, I’m always happy to.”

Thorin stares at him until he is squirming in his seat. Then he inclines his head. “If I need anything, I’ll ask,” he says, but Bilbo thinks that he won’t.

They fall silent and watch the boys soak themselves more than the dishes until they deem them clean enough and dry themselves. They come back to the table and Fili pours out more lemonade for Kili.

“Cookies?” Kili inquires, then jumps when Fili pinches his elbow. “Please, may we have cookies?”

Bilbo chuckles and stands. “You may,” he replies, heading to his pantry and bringing out the jars of cookies he has made. He sets them on the table. “Now be careful you two, we’ve just had a very large dinner.”

“Just two, guys,” Thorin says, eyeing the cookies himself. Once Fili and Kili have made their selections, Thorin reaches out and snags a peanut butter one for himself. When he catches Bilbo’s eye, he goes pink around the nose and stuffs half the cookie into his mouth, turning away and looking at his nephews.

Bilbo hides a smile and takes an oatmeal raisin cookie for himself. They eat their treats in relative silence and are soon finished.

“Do you have any video games?” Kili asks Bilbo.

“Oh dear, no, I’m afraid I don’t,” he answers. “I don’t play many video games but I do have quite a few board games.”

“Do you have Battleship?” Kili asks with a wild grin. “I love Battleship!”

“Do you know what, I do believe I have that one,” Bilbo says, pointedly pretending he doesn’t see nor hear Thorin’s half-hearted attempts to say no to Kili. “Would you like me to fetch it for you?”

Both the boys nod eagerly and Bilbo stands. He is taken aback when Kili follows and snatches up his hand, holding it and beaming up at him. He smiles in return and takes the boy down the hall to his den, and the closet that holds the games he has. They pick Battleship out and a deck of cards while they’re at it, and then head to the living room. Fili has trailed behind, but he happily takes up residence on the floor with his brother, and they begin to strategically prepare the game.

Bilbo sees Thorin standing in the doorway and motions at his couch. He’s well aware that Thorin would rather be home but the boys seem content here and he doesn’t wish to break their good moods. It had been so terrible earlier and he can still recall their tears with vivid clarity; he would like to remember this day as something better. And if he’s perhaps a bit selfishly enjoying the company, which he doesn’t have much of, well, he’s the only one to know it.

Thorin eventually sits on the opposite end of the couch from him and Bilbo turns the TV on to a random action movie. It seems to fit the mood in the living room, which is quiet but filled with battle-ready children. Bilbo watches them, unable to keep a smile off of his face, and feels genuinely content. He always thinks that he feels that way, until he actually does, and wonders if he should get out more. He has Ori and Bofur, and cousins in many numbers that he can spend more time with; his mother would encourage it.

The boys play numerous games and it is getting on in the evening and one movie has shifted into the next by the time Bilbo checks his watch. He is surprised to see that it is past nine in the evening and chances a peek at Thorin. He has to hold in a squeak at what he sees.

Thorin has fallen asleep, his head leaning back on the top of the couch, with his mouth open a little, breathing deeply. Bilbo stifles the urge to giggle and looks at the boys; they are yawning and their eyes are growing heavy. Kili seems close to nodding off and Bilbo knows his evening has come to an end. He pats the cushion between his and Thorin’s until the man snorts awake and looks quickly around the living room.

Bilbo waits until he gets his bearings and pretends he doesn’t see the dark blush staining his cheeks when his eyes settle on him. “It’s getting rather late and they seem quite tired,” he says softly.

Thorin scrubs the sleep from his eyes and nods, standing off the couch with a muttered curse. “Fili, Kili,” he says, startling the boys. He motions at the board. “It’s late, we’re going home. Put the game away.”

Kili puts up half-hearted arguments but his yawning gets in the way and soon he is helping Fili put the game back in its box. They stand and go to Thorin; Kili takes up his hand while Fili hovers with an uncertain air about him.

“Can we come over tomorrow?” Kili asks sleepily, and immediately yawns widely enough to surely hurt.

“Kili,” Thorin says with a sigh, shaking his head.

“Why not?”

“Because we shouldn’t take up so much of Mister Baggins’s time,” Thorin answers.

“What about next Sunday?” Bilbo asks, pursing his lips as Thorin gazes at him. He attempts a casual shrug but is rather sure he misses. “I’ll be making fish with some nice roasted vegetables. I’d be happy to have company so I don’t eat it all myself. If… if you’d like to come, that is.”

Thorin looks between him and his hopeful nephews, then sighs again, smiling. “We can do that. But only if we can bring the dessert,” he says, looking back to Bilbo. “No exceptions. I make a good blackberry cobbler.”

Fili rolls his eyes. “It’s his favorite,” he says, then grins when Thorin shoots him a look. “It is, you eat it all the time. Can me and Kee have ice cream, too?”

“If you don’t give me any more grey hairs by the end of this week,” Thorin acquiesces and smiles softly as Fili beams openly at him. Kili slumps against his leg and he swoops down to pick the boy up, holding him in one arm and resting his hand on Fili’s shoulder.

Bilbo looks at this family that seemed so broken only hours before and cannot stop his own smile. “Well then, that certainly sounds good to me,” he says, then leads them down the hallway and to the front door. He opens it for them and watches as they step outside into the cool night air. “It’s been lovely. Truly. Thank you for enjoying dinner with me.”

“Thank you, Bilbo,” Fili says, then looks at his brother.

Kili grins through another yawn. “Thank you, Mister Bilbo!” he chirps, then almost immediately slumps against Thorin and half-closes his eyes.

Bilbo and Thorin chuckle at the sight, then look at each other. It is quiet for a short moment, then Thorin inclines his head.

“Thank you,” he says. “We’ll see you Sunday. They’ll be looking forward to it all week.”

“If you happen to want any company before then, do remember that tea is at four, and you are always welcome,” Bilbo says, waving at the boys. “And I’ll be looking forward to it, as well.”

Thorin smiles and adjusts Kili in his arms until he can hold a hand out for Bilbo to take, which he does.

He shakes it, noting how much bigger and warmer Thorin’s hand is compared to his own, and certainly does not blush at that. He does smile when the touch lingers and then backs through his doorway.

“Good night, you three,” he says.

“Good night,” Thorin replies, watching him and hesitating as if he wants to say more. He must decide against it, because he motions for Fili to follow, and turns to walk down the pathway leading to the sidewalk.

Bilbo watches the family go and bites his lip when Thorin touches Fili’s shoulder and the boy doesn’t turn him away. He watches them until they disappear into Thorin’s own yard, and only then does he close his door and lean against the wall.

“Sunday,” he says, like a promise, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I... I don't know what this is, but have it anyway. I'd love to know what you think, comments are the best.
> 
>  [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)
> 
> Edit: I just realized I never posted a link to a commission I got of a scene from the fic by rutobuka! Check it out,
> 
> [Here](http://rutobuka2.tumblr.com/post/165163507194/a-commission-for-vtforpedros-a-family-close-to)


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